This screen accelerates my heartbeat these days when I see it:
It’s embarrassing, really, how closely the relationship between me and this screen mimics an unhealthy one. It’s startling how strong the pull is. It’s an addiction.
Currently I’m plowing through seasons one and two of the Blacklist without much self-control. The process may or may not involve potato chips and too much caffeine. I know better than this. My body, which has a relentless inner clock, and wakes with the chickens no matter what time I go to bed, is paying the price, and I don’t seem to care. The series is wonderful and awful at the same time. I’m just trying to get it watched as fast as possible so I can get my life back on the other side.
I used to be quite judgmental of my sister who struggled with addictions. Why? I’m certainly not superior in any way, and I don’t hesitate for one for second to state that fact here, on the record. She forgave me before she died, like the cool sister that she was. I loved her and I miss her.
This morning, the strangest thing happened. As I stumbled around, bleary-eyed, at 5:30 a.m. trying to find my clothing quickly so I could get downstairs and brew some legal stimulant drug to overcome my sleep deficit, these words from the apostle Paul came vividly to my mind:
8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.10 For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
(2 Corinthians 12: 8-10, ESV)
What beautiful thoughts for me this morning. And when I went downstairs to start my usual routine of time with God, He gently cut me loose so fast it made my head swim, so I could get about my business which has suffered in the wake of the red letters on the black screen.
What grace, and there’s the beauty of it all.
There’s not one thing I can do to earn this unspeakable gift of being set free by the sacrifice of a loving God, who paid the price himself, with his blood. It’s not about who I am, or even who I am not. It’s about Who He Is, and what He did.
A breakthrough for me today was the lack of guilt I felt, after kneeling in submission to let Him have this, too. I accepted His grace today with joy and peace. And I stood up and went about my day.
And I think that might be a first.